


Winning the Game

by clearwaterchild



Category: Death Note
Genre: Blow Jobs, Consensual Sex, Hand Jobs, Handcuffs, Light Bondage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 09:28:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3645258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clearwaterchild/pseuds/clearwaterchild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Sakura TV forces the SPK to relocate, Near hosts Mello at his new hideout. They play a new game, one whose rules are nebulous and where the bounds between winning and losing aren't as clear-cut as Near wants to think.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winning the Game

**Author's Note:**

> Spring Break was great! I didn't have school or work, so I thought I'd try my hand at PWP while I'm waiting on some translations for the next chapter of Loud Breaths, Long Pauses. Hope you enjoy.

They make it a rule not to talk about the case.

Not that it matters. Near knows about the Shinigami and the thirteen-day rule, and Mello knows that Kira is a member of the NPA, and probably the second L. The Sakura TV fiasco has left them at a stalemate, at least until Gevanni can restore the SPK’s network, or until Mello can find outside help. Still, their rule lets them pretend they’ve got secrets to keep from each other. Mello needs that pretense. 

Near would rather do without it--he’s never been one to separate work and play.

Though as it stands, he admits to himself as Mello’s fingernails dig into his hips, neither of them is currently inclined to do much talking.

Mello catches Near’s lips in a rough, blistering kiss, all clumsy and tinged with urgency. Their teeth clack together, and Mello’s lips are chapped, but it’s so characteristically _him_ that Near can’t help but find it perfect. Mello grabs Near’s hips and cants them forward, pressing his back further against the wall. Near gasps a little at the impact, and Mello slips his tongue into Near’s slightly open mouth. 

Near meets Mello’s tongue with his own. Mello’s mouth tastes sour with the aftertaste of chocolate. It’s gross. Near wishes he minded. Instead, he seeks it out.

But that’s the Mello effect, he thinks, clasping his hands behind Mello’s neck to pull him closer. He can’t honestly say he expected anything less.

Mello grazes his teeth over Near’s lower lip. Near feels his breath hitch. Mello makes an appreciative noise and bites at Near’s lip again, a little harder this time. He’s not bad at kissing, Near notes.

Not one to be outdone, Near bites back. 

Mello breaks the kiss and trails little nibbles down his jaw, chuckling softly. Near doesn’t know what’s so funny. He wants to ask, but when Mello pulls his collar aside and begins leaving little bites and wet kisses on his neck, Near develops other worries.

“No marks,” he warns.

“Oh? Why not?” Mello’s teasing tone says that he knows exactly why not, and Near considers letting Mello know that he does not appreciate being made fun of, especially in such an intimate situation, but then Mello goes back to what he was doing before Near said anything, and Near decides he’s all right not commenting.

Then Mello bites down especially hard, right at the junction between Near’s neck and his shoulder, and Near’s hand flies to his mouth to cover the sound he makes.

Mello rears back, blinking. “So, that,” he babbles, his cheeks turning light pink. “You. Uh.”

Near feels his own face heat up. “That was unexpected,” he says stupidly, through his fingers.

Mello goes quiet for a second. Then his eyes glint, and Near only has a moment to think _Oh, God_ , before Mello attacks his neck again, biting and sucking right at that same spot.

Near shudders and clenches his thighs together, quieter now that he’s not startled by his own arousal. For what it’s worth, he feels a little miffed at Mello’s advantage, and he vows that once he gets unpinned from this wall, he’ll find something that makes Mello shudder.

But not...not now, of course. Now would be an inopportune moment. Tactically...inadvisable.

“No marks,” he repeats, but is at least eighty-nine percent sure Mello isn’t listening.

There’s a sudden creaking sound from outside Near’s room. Mello stops cold and cranes his neck toward the door. Near does his best to calm his breathing as he, too, listens for more noise. A minute passes. The only thing Near can hear is his heartbeat, so loud it pounds in his ears, and he’s surprised to find that his erection hasn’t subsided a bit with the potential of getting caught. Interesting. He makes a note.

“Dangerous,” he whispers, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

Mello looks genuinely put off. “I made sure I wasn’t followed,” he whispers back. So, Mello doesn’t get off on danger. Yet another surprise. Near makes another note.

“I know,” he says. “If anything, it was either Lidner or Gevanni. They’re taking turns watching Mr. Mogi.”

Mello nods, still looking a little nervous. Near hooks a finger into one of Mello’s belt loops to pull him closer.

“It was nothing,” he murmurs hazily. “The only danger we’re in is of getting caught with our pants down. And currently, not even that.” It’s as close as he’s willing to get to actually saying, _Mello, take my pants off_ \--at least, for now.

Their crotches brush against each other. Near aches for more contact, though he can feel that Mello’s only half-hard at most.

“Do you _want_ to get caught?” Mello asks incredulously.

Instead of responding, Near grabs at the back of Mello’s neck to pull him in for another kiss, trying to coax him back into the mood. He’s not sure it works, but Mello kisses him back anyway.

Near presses his hips into Mello’s to grind their crotches together, and then it’s not long before Mello’s kisses start to get urgent again. He rakes his fingernails across Near’s hips as they rock against each other, until finally Near feels Mello’s cock straining against his pants.

Mello makes a soft little noise into Near’s mouth. Near breaks the kiss.

“Bed,” he says breathlessly. Mello’s cheeks turn the slightest bit pink.

The second they get to the bed, Mello takes the upper hand again, straddling Near and sitting on his legs so he can’t move away. Near’s a little put out. He wanted a chance to play with Mello. And it’s not like he won’t get that chance--like hell he won’t--but it doesn’t sit right with him that Mello’s discovered two of Near’s turn-ons and Near knows zero of Mello’s. That feels like losing, and Near hates losing.

He doesn’t hate it quite enough to object to Mello palming him through his thin pants, though, and he thinks that might be the important part.

Mello makes short work of getting Near out of his clothes. Near feels yet another loss as he finds himself completely naked while Mello is still fully clothed.

Mello leaves a trail of wet kisses down Near’s chest and stomach, just slow enough that Near squirms with anticipation. Then, just below Near’s belly button, he stops and looks up, face flushed a deep pink, breaths coming light and quick. 

“Do you want it?” he asks.

“What kind of question is that?” Near huffs breathlessly. “Just go already.”

Mello _smirks_ , the bastard. He stays perfectly still, nothing moving except his eyes, which flicker deviously, until Near twitches, and then, _finally_ , he just goes already.

He starts giving Near’s cock the same sort of kisses he gave the rest of Near’s body, all wet and warm and sloppy. Near curls his toes and tries to control his breathing. He doesn’t think he does a very good job.

He comes to terms with just how bad of a job he’s doing when Mello moves his mouth away from his cock to suck at his inner thigh. Mello’s teeth scrape against Near’s sensitive skin, and Near attempts to eat his own hand. He doesn’t do a very good job of that, either.

“So can I leave a mark _here_?” Mello asks against Near’s skin, barely glancing up for Near’s reply.

Near nods, and Mello continues working on the hickey that’s already forming on his thigh. 

_You’re losing_ , his brain mocks childishly. He tells his brain that this isn’t, in fact, a game.

Once there’s a big dark spot, complete with some impressive but soon-to-fade teeth marks, Mello goes back to Near’s erection. He gives Near’s cock a few experimental licks, then takes the head in his mouth and sucks, swirling his tongue around it. That by itself feels amazing, but every few bobs Mello makes a desperate little noise in the back of his throat, and _that_ feels godly. 

Near realizes that maybe he’s not losing, after all.

“Enjoying yourself?” he tries to ask coolly. It comes out strangled and awful, and he hates himself for it, but Mello growls a little warning in response, and the tips of his ears go red, and that somehow makes everything all right.

Mello starts taking more than just the head. He doesn’t go down all the way, but he uses his hand to pump the base in time with his mouth--slow, deliberate strokes that make Near have to fight to keep his hips down. And Mello’s so _good_ , and the noises he’s making are so _hot_ , that Near can’t help himself. He thrusts up into Mello’s mouth, just a little.

Mello _moans_.

_Two and two_ , Near thinks.

Mello pulls back like he’s been burned. His whole face is scarlet, and he can’t even look Near in the face, let alone the eye.

“Don’t,” he spits, his voice low and threatening. “ _Ever_. Do that again.”

Near lets his eyes roam over Mello, feeling a little childish rush come over him. He heard that. He knows. Mello doesn’t want him to know, but he _knows_. Perhaps he can find a way to play with that, later.

For the time being, though, he just nods, says, “Okay,” and waits for Mello to move again.

He finally does, left hand pressed flat against Near’s right hip, forcing him down. Near’s all right with that. He’d prefer it if his movement weren’t restrained, but he’ll take that hit if Mello puts his mouth back on him.

And he does, albeit tentatively. He goes back to just sucking at the head, and with every bob he pushes Near’s hips into the mattress. Near resolutely holds still, even as Mello utterly fails to tamp down on his little sounds.

_Later_ , he tells himself. _Next time_. He’s not sure there’ll be a next time. He doesn’t think that matters.

So Near keeps his hips glued to the mattress, and after a while Mello starts to open up again, his strokes deeper, his little moans less restrained. It’s good, it’s so good, it’s amazing. Mello’s mouth is hot and wet and perfect, and Near feels a little extra jolt of pleasure with every sound that comes out of it. The thing that gets Near going the most, though, is the knowledge that just by raising his hips the _slightest_ bit, he could drive Mello just as crazy as Mello’s driving him.

But that would make Mello stop, so Near keeps his hips down. He keeps his hips down. He keeps--

_Oh. Oh,_ _shit_.

“I’m getting close,” he gasps.

Mello’s gaze flicks up, his eyes meet Near’s for a split second, and then he takes Near’s cock all the way down to the base.

Near feels a whine tear its way out of his throat. He hears Mello make a similar sound, and that’s it for him. He fists his hands in his own hair and holds on for dear life. Mello swallows him to the root one, two, three more times. Near shudders, curls his toes, and comes so hard he hears bells.

He doesn’t breathe for a few seconds afterward, afraid it’ll ruin his post-orgasm buzz. He doesn’t open his eyes, either, just slowly removes his hands from his hair and lays them, relaxed and palm-up, on either side of his head. Between his legs, Mello is both silent and still.

Near draws a shaky breath, then lets it out. He waits.

The bed dips and creaks, and then a weight settles beside him.

He opens his eyes and turns to look at Mello, carefully steeling his face into a neutral expression. 

Mello stares back, eyes burning.

“Near, don’t...don’t think this means that I…” he starts. His voice wavers.

Near’s in danger of breaking face. He feels the corners of his mouth start to tug upwards. He can’t let that happen--he can’t let Mello see--so he quickly rolls onto his stomach and, without thinking too much about it, crashes his lips against Mello’s.

_Mmh_ , he thinks when his tongue comes into contact with his own cum. _Oops_. That was not the greatest plan. All the same, he can’t help but grin into Mello’s mouth, because Mello just did that. Voluntarily. And he _liked_ it.

Near liked it, too. It occurs to him, vaguely, that he’s going to fantasize about face-fucking Mello every time he gets himself off for the indefinite future, but that doesn’t make his grin fade at all. Maybe that’s losing. Or maybe this isn’t a game, after all. Near’s not completely convinced either way.

Regardless of whether it is or isn’t, the fact remains that Mello’s still hard as a rock and desperate to get off. He pulls Near on top of him and grabs his hand, guiding it toward his erection.

Near massages Mello’s cock through the front of his pants, breaking the kiss so he can focus more on what he’s doing. Mello unzips his vest and shrugs it off, chucking it onto the floor beside the bed.

“Don’t think this means that I’ll forfeit the race,” Mello gasps.

Near stills his hands on Mello’s fly. “Of course not,” he replies. “I’d never think that.” If anything, he expects that Mello will return to the Kira case and put in twice the effort. “I’m disappointed that you thought I would.”

“Disappointed.” Mello wiggles his hips a little. _All in good time_ , Near thinks.

“I thought we knew each other better than that.”

Mello huffs. “Shut up and touch my dick already.”

Near chuckles. “You’re so impatient,” he says.

“You’re one to talk.”

Near wrangles Mello out of his pants and underwear with a mild amount of difficulty--leather is not the most reasonable of materials--leaving his erection bobbing with the residual momentum. “Nice,” he comments, eyeing it.

Mello covers his face. “Oh, God,” he says. “Shut up. Shut up, shut up.”

“And touch your dick already, I know,” Near says, and does exactly that.

Mello gasps and moans when Near starts pumping his cock, and Near has the gall to be surprised at how loud he is. He always assumed that Mello wouldn’t be quiet in bed, but somehow no hypothetical Mello ever came close to the real one. It’s not the decibels, really, but the type of sound that throws Near off--Mello’s moans are breathier than Near expected.

Mello also approaches the edge of orgasm faster than Near expected, his cock straining against Near’s hand after what feels like only a few strokes.

Near backs off, moves his hand away.

“Can’t- don’t--” Mello says, writhing and thrusting into the air. “Near if you fucking stop I’ll--”

Near feels a grin spread across his face. “Don’t worry,” he replies, a devious idea forming in his head. “I was just surprised. I’m not going to stop.” He reaches for Mello’s cock and begins, once more, to pump it.

_Slowly_.

Mello howls indignantly, having apparently forgotten his earlier fear of being heard. “Near,” he chokes out, “you’re a fucking _asshole_ , I hope you know that. You’re a little shit, and I hope you die. You fucking- you- you- you fucking _stopped again_!”

Near lays his hand on Mello’s inner thigh. His idea is working mind-blowingly well. “You know, Mello,” he says, unable to keep the smirk out of his voice, “it’s unwise to insult the person who’s getting you off.”

“God damn it,” Mello spits, and reaches a hand down.

Near stops him.

Mello growls and puts up a token struggle.

“Fuckin’, God- just let me- okay, fuck you,” Mello says, still only doing the minimum to fend Near off. His face has turned all pink again, and his breath hitches when Near tightens his grip on Mello’s wrist.

Near gets another idea. He sits up on his heels and grabs Mello’s other wrist, then pushes them both flat against the bed above Mello’s head. “I _really_ don’t think insulting me is a good idea.”

“Don’t--” Mello starts to say, but shudders when he pushes against Near’s hands and can’t move. “Just- you--” he tries, looking away every time Near tries to make eye contact. “Okay,” he finally manages, “but your hands won’t be able to hold me for very long.” 

Near raises his eyebrows in response.

Mello frowns. “What.”

He removes his hands from Mello’s wrists, saying, “Stay there,” and goes to his closet. He rifles around in the pile of clothes and other stuff he managed to save from the original headquarters until he finds what he’s looking for.

Mello hears the _clink_ and groans. “Oh, no,” he says. “No, no, no, no, fucking _no_.”

Near holds the handcuffs up. “No?” 

“ _Fuck_ no. Put that shit away.” Mello won’t even look at them. 

Near twirls a lock of his hair in quiet thought. “Okay,” he says, and goes to put them away.

Mello’s eyes go wide. “No, wait. I.”

“You?” Near freezes, holding the cuffs out at arm’s length.

Mello turns his head away so Near can’t see his face. “Fucking,” he says to the wall.

“You fucking….”

“ _Fuck_.”

_Play carefully_ ….

“Mello,” Near says, eyes glittering, “you know I don’t want to make you do anything you’re uncomfortable with, right? If you don’t want the handcuffs, I’ll put them away.”

Mello’s face turns red all the way up to the tips of his ears. “God...fucking...shut up.”

“No, really,” Near presses. He’s glad Mello is still mostly turned away, so he doesn’t see the awful smirk that’s crept across Near’s face. “If you’re uncomfortable with the idea, then we don’t have to use them. We could--”

“God damn it, you fucking know that- you’re just trying to- just- fucking--” Mello carries on, never quite finishing a sentence that he starts.

Near hums faux-contemplatively. “You know,” he muses, “Matt said something about you once that I thought captured your character spot-on. He said--oh, what did he say….” Near brings a hand up to tug at his hair, still faking thought. “Ah, now I remember. Mello...you have no chill.”

Mello makes eye contact, spits out one last “Fuck you,” then gives up and, defeated, says, “Just put the cuffs on me and shut up about it.”

_Another win_. 

Near comes back to the bed, a giddy feeling rising in his chest. That feeling only intensifies when he sees that Mello’s kept his hands above his head--and, in fact, he’s barely moved from the position Near left him in. 

“Move up just a little,” Near says. 

Mello scoots up until his knuckles brush against the slats of the headboard. Near maneuvers the handcuffs around one of the slats so he can lock Mello’s hands to it.

“How does that feel?” he asks.

“It’s fine,” Mello responds immediately. “Can you just get on with--”

“I’m making sure you’re safe,” Near points out. “If it’s cutting off your circulation, or digging into your wrists, then--”

“All right, all right, all right, _fine_.” Mello tugs lightly on his restraints. The metal makes a satisfying noise when he does. “Could be a little...tighter,” he says, turning his face away again.

Near frowns and inspects the cuffs. “Are you in danger of falling out of them the way they are now?”

Another light _clink_. “...No.”

“Then I’m not tightening them. For now, anyway.”

Mello huffs and turns his head back toward Near. “So, they’re _fine_. Like I just said.”

Near rolls his eyes. “Yes, I give. They are, in fact, fine.”

“Okay, so _get on with it_.”

Near gets on with it.

Mello’s somewhat lost his erection when Near resumes touching him, but that changes the second he tries to move his arms. 

The cold, unforgiving metal holds them still.

“Oh, fuck,” Mello groans, his cock twitching in Near’s hand. His arms tense and relax against the cuffs, and the vaguest hint of a smile starts playing at the corners of his mouth.

Near settles into a slow rhythm, feeling a smile breaking on his own face. Mello writhes beneath him, eyes closed, lips slightly parted, body covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and Near feels the urge to look away. He fights it.

Mello pulls against the handcuffs. “Shit,” he chokes out.

“Careful,” Near says, and the second he says it, he wishes he hadn’t. There’s a softness to his voice that shouldn’t be there, and an unexpected warmth that washes over him.

Mello gasps and tilts his head back, exposing his throat, and Near immediately looks away. 

_What a weird game this is_ , he concludes finally, _that losing can be winning and winning can be losing_.

That’s all the thinking he has time for, because Mello’s moans take on a telling urgency, and he starts thrusting into Near’s hand.

Near glances back to Mello. _Just for a second_ , he tells himself.

Mello’s eyes are open.

Their gazes meet.

“Fuck, _Near_ ,” Mello breathes, and then he’s coming, he’s arching off the bed, he’s turning his head away, and that’s good because Near’s caught too off-guard at hearing his name said so softly to avert his own eyes.

_A weird game indeed_.

Mello takes the next few moments to breathe and recover from his orgasm; Near takes them to put his emotions back where they belong.

Finally, after what could be either an eternity or a millisecond, Mello coughs awkwardly.

Near unlocks the handcuffs and grabs a box of tissues off the nightstand. Mello quickly cleans himself up with a handful of tissues, then brings his hands to his chest and begins lightly massaging his wrists--first one, then the other, then the first again.

Near watches him while he does it. After a second, Mello meets his gaze.

Then Mello stares at him for a long time, looking all the while like he’s ready to bolt. Near knows that in this moment, he could say any one of a million things and Mello would be knocked out of the game--not just this game-or-maybe-not-a-game they’re playing now, but the bigger game. Near could beat Mello to Kira, with one sentence. Maybe one word.

But he doesn’t. Because...because.

Because they have a rule, he tells himself, and he realizes that he needs the pretense, too. 

“How do your wrists feel?” he asks instead.

“Not great,” Mello admits, then adds, “I’ll be fine.”

Near nods. “Sorry, it was what I had on hand.”

“It’s _fine_.”

Near nods again, at a loss for words.

Mello doesn’t seem any better off. He says nothing, and his eyes dart around the room, never once landing on Near.

Then, all at once, he gets up and starts rummaging around the room, looking for his clothes.

“You’re leaving?” Near blurts out, and regrets it.

Mello turns and eyes him warily. “Yeah,” he says. His voice shakes a little.

In his head, Near kicks himself. Of course Mello is leaving. What was Near expecting him to do--sleep here? Stay for breakfast? Join the--

Near clamps down on that thought before he can have it. He wasn’t expecting Mello to do anything. He said something for the sake of saying something, and that’s the end of it.

“Where’s my coat?” Mello asks.

Near points to the corner of the room where he threw it off. Mello goes to retrieve it. Then, all his possessions accounted for, he heads for the door.

He stops in the doorway and turns around.

“So about our race,” he says, in that same shaky voice.

“You’re not giving up, I heard you the first time,” Near replies.

Mello shakes his head. “No. It’s even more than that--I’m going to double my efforts. I’m going to stop using the SPK to achieve my goals. I’ll- I’ll make my own team. I did it before, and I’ll do it again. No matter what, Near,” and Mello growls his name but Near still hears the echo of softness in his voice, “I’ll get to Kira before you. And I’ll be waiting for you when you get there.”

Near twirls a lock of his hair, unsure whether to feel disappointed or relieved. He chooses the latter, for the sake of the game. “I’m looking forward to continuing the chase with you.”

“Good. You better be.” And with that, Mello is gone.

Near lays back on the bed and stares at the ceiling, tugging at his hair. The game they just played, he realizes, is all part of the larger game they’re still playing--where winning could be losing just as easily as losing could be winning. He has a feeling that even if Mello makes a show of not wanting it, they’ll end up working together in some capacity or another at future points during the case--it’s just the nature of the game.

And that’s enough for him. It has to be.

 

 

 


End file.
